


forever isn't for everyone (is forever for you?)

by LadyVisenya



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, au where miles kane is the lead singer of the arctic monkeys, miles and alex are still best mates, on the road with the band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2020-06-23 16:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19705015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVisenya/pseuds/LadyVisenya
Summary: "I don’t know what skins is,” Alex responds slowly, “but if you’re ever feeling lonely I want you to tell me. You don’t deserve to ever feel lonely El."I blush, staring down at my shoes as we duck into a second hand shop. "Alex-”“I mean it,” he says with an blunt honesty that has me wanting to curl up into a ball. “You’re funny and kind and you know what you want and I won’t hold the fact that you haven’t read Frankenstein against you."





	1. down under

Feeling ready to fall over and collapse was not the way I pictured my first trip abroad to go, but after an entire day of traveling to New Zealand, that’s how I felt. 

Legs cramped all the way through bag check and immigration where we all meet up. I’d spent the last few hours going over the files Ben had given me on the band. 

Touring was a new concept for me and when they’d all asked-told me to go, I hadn’t heard of the Arctic Monkeys. I recognized the music though so that must count for something. 

The band was nice enough, just ordinary lads out for a good time. 

Except for the singer who was loud and obnoxious and I just knew he’d been the class clown back in school. That was just the vibe Miles Kane gave off. 

The hot stifling air hits me the moment the group, techs, band members, management, step outside. 

It’s surprising, how the seasons are flip flopped. 

Ben’s on the phone. The bands messing about. Everyone’s exhausted as we pile into the cars. 

We have three days to get settled, supposedly. But Lucy had snorted and stated we’d probably be to busy running around managing the interviews to get any rest or wandering about. 

And since my job here was basically to assist Ben and run over contracts and numbers since I’d sort of been thrown here and Ben wasn’t allowed an actual assistant, I was sure I’d be running around.

The hotel’s nicer than anything I’ve ever stayed in. Even if I do have to share a room but Lucy’s nice, sat next to me on the plane and chatted like we were old mates catching up. 

Being the only two girls on the tour. It’ll be just like dorming again. Lucy claims the bed by the window for us. 

“You think management would spring for something nicer,” she utters, luggage shoved out of the way and into a corner.“I’m sure they’re saving that for the band." She snorts, tossing her blonde hair back, "or their end of the year bonuses.”

I laugh and abandon my luggage in favor of checking out the shower, “Imma shower or do you want to go first?”

“I’m probably going to nap,” she answers, “I got no sleep on the plane and we have an interview in two hours.”

“Do I have to go to that,” I ask, feeling like I should already know this. I had no real idea what to expect, what to do. I’d been given vague descriptions of my job and since traveling and getting paid felt too good to pass up

.“Babe,” she responds, looking up at me with tired eyes, eyeliner smudged, and a indulgent smile, “please sync up to the calendar and DO check the management group chat between us and Ben.”

“So?”

Lucy shakes her head in response, “no. We three have a meeting tomorrow at the venue at nine and then I have to run and meet the band and do press which you can and should skip. Everyone’s going out later with Ben though so you should take a nap at least.”

I smile, wanting to see more of New Zealand. It was green and quaint and seemingly small in comparison to London. “Well then I’m going to shower then.”

We order some room service and I go over my schedule for the next few days. Ben’s already sent me some messages, asking me to call taxis to shepard people about and track down the head concert person at the venue and double check with all the people that’ll be lined up for interviews tomorrow. 

It’s boring, not made less so by the view of a car park, even with the sun still out in the sky when my body says it should be dark. Time zones. Sunset isn’t for another three hours. 

I munch on chips and wonder how soon I can fall asleep without throwing me so far off my sleeping schedule for the rest of this leg of the tour down under. 

Later they’ll all go out and while that sounds fun I also would like not to be tired tomorrow morning when I have a meeting at the venue at nine sharp. It’s only their second second world tour and while their big back home, they’re still trying to break the rest of the world. 

Theres a knock on our door and I glance around, hoping for Lucy’s who’s older and “been there done that” to tell me what to do but she’s still in the bathroom.I open the door.

It’s Miles in an atrocious looking neon adidas jackets and aviators looking like every lad in england. “Could you do me a favor love?" 

"What’s the favor?” I’m to tired to be clever and I don’t actually know if I’m supposed to be ordered around or if I get to order people around. It probably doesn’t matter much so long as the job gets done.

“My mates getting in at a later time and I was wondering if you could go pick ‘me up from the airport and bring him here. He’s room should be all set down at the front desk." 

I remember the fit that Ben and everyone back at the office had thrown when Miles had turned down his old tour rider in favor of bringing his friend along. Apparently they’d been inseparable since they started writing music together. 

He sees that I’m unsure and adds with a wide toothy grin, "I’ll buy you a drink later,” all sexy suggestiveness.I roll my eyes. 

It had taken my five seconds to figure out how casual and comfortable and completely mad Miles was. Had to be to get up on stage every night and put on a show with a capital S.

“Sure.” It’ll give me something to do while everyone’s busy. 

“Okay,” and then he’s off and I shut the door behind him. 

After being on the phone for more time than I would like to and double checking the schedule and being out on hold, I finally call a cab back to the airport I’d arrived at. It’s a strange feeling, but a lovely view as the sun sets. Freshly showered and changed. 

It doesn’t keep the exhaustion from my eyes. Like a stone dragging me down. I want to sleep and it won’t be much longer until I can. 

I pay for the cab with my company card. And double check the information. The plane landed ten minutes ago. He should be out any second now.  
Miles’ friend Alex. I don’t know what he looks like and Kane hadn’t got to me on that. Probably being interviewed. 

I’d have to hope he knew I was waiting for him. There’s a crowd waiting by the gate. I yawn, hoping he gets out soon. When there’s still enough light to see anything. I doubt it when the sun set on my way in. 

Worrying about who Alex was turned out to be pointless. He’s recognizable on sight. Carrying a guitar case in one hand and a carry on bag in the other, leather jacket unzipped in the heat that seeps into the airport, brown hair curling past his ears, looking every bit the type of english lad I expected to be Miles Kane’s best friend, sunglasses on despite it being night. 

“Alex,” I call out questioningly, walking up to him. 

He smiles warmly and it’s readily apparent how attractive he is, even in his haggard travelers state. “Did Kane send you?”

“Yeah, well, he bribed me with a drink,” I answer. “I’m Ellie." 

"Alex,” he replied. “Is the hotel far?" 

"A bit. You missed a great sunset but we should still be back before everyone else.” We head to the exit. Calling on a cab. I love taking cabs when I’m not the one paying for them. “Give you some time to settle in. It’s a long plane ride.”

“I’ve been on worse.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. I was to tired to focus on anything other than trying not to fall asleep. 

“Ellie,” Alex utters, “We’re here.”

I swipe the company card. And offer to help him with his things but he waves me off as we walk up to the front desk. 

He gives his name and gets the key and room number and I walk with him to the elevators. He’s a floor above me. 

“Why’d you get in so late,” I ask him, leaning against the empty elevator door. 

“The other one was booked full and I 'ad some things to take care of earlier.”

I nod. The elevator opens up on my floor. 

“Thanks for picking me up El, even if Miles did have to bribe you.”

“Well I wasn’t sure if you were an arse or not.”

He laughs as the elevator doors close. 


	2. linger

Lucy and I are up before the sun. I’ve called a cab and manage to grab a banana from the complementary breakfast. Most of the team’s still asleep.

"Fucking techies,“ Ben mutters, rubbing at his eyes from behind his sunnies, "get to sleep while I do all the work.” He’d stayed out with the rest of the band all night. Who knows they’d gotten back in. And now we had actual work to do. 

"Just you,” Lucy replies archly.

“You two weren’t out until three in the morning. At least I got a nice shag out of the whole thing.”

“TMI Ben!” It’s too early for this. But the whole city is too beautiful too miss. New Zealand. I have too at least make it to the beach once during these few days we have here before heading to Auckland. Maybe even make it to hobbit town. 

“It’s true. I hate dealing with the business side. I just signed on to party and travel.” 

“Where did you guys even go?”

"A bunch of bars. Got some late night eats.” He shrugs, looking way too relaxed in jeans and a t shirt. But maybe I was the one out of place in slacks and a silk cami. I just couldn’t get my head around doing business in jeans. "You should’ve come with us Ellie. We missed you last night.“

"I prefer not feeling like shit two days in a row actually.”

Lucy snorts, “oh you’re perfect. You’ll do great out here with us.”

There’s complimentary coffee and I make sure to pour as much creamer as I can into the cup. Ben and the venue manager talk, go over some last minute papers. He passes them to me and I read them and nod, passing them back. They’re the same as I have in my files. 

Ben signs off and then they’re joking and bantering and I want to stab my eye out. Lucy’s gone to go over the press list and signing off on the state of backstage. It’s not a huge venue. Nothing like the O2 back home. But the size does give everyone a better look at the stage, probably without selling a kidney for it. 

We’re done, having taken longer than we planned. We have to race back to meet up with band to do press. Fuck. Our taxi gets caught up in traffic. 

“How’s there even enough cars for there to be traffic,” Lucy complains. She doesn’t trust the band to speak without her there to do damage control. 

“Fuck it. We’re just meeting them at the radio station. Then we can head to hotel and do the rest of the day’s press in there.” He sends a text. “Can you send a taxi for them Ellie?”

“Got it.” At some point I’ve got to get lunch. A banana and coffee isn’t enough to hold me over. 

We barely make it in time and I run off to get them all breakfast while they do their radio interview for the morning. Without specifics I’m left with a bit of time to wander about and find someplace to eat. 

The air feels fresher. Everything has a rose colored cast from it’s newness to me. Even I feel lighter without the weight of being known here. Like I could change and be the person I wanted to away from home. In this new place. 

There’s a restaurant a street over and the coziness amid the skyscrapers catch my eye. It’s homey and welcoming and it smells amazing. I order a couple of their breakfast specials and lunch sandwiches, taking one for myself as the kitchen preps the rest. 

“Large family,” the waitress asks. 

I shake my head, “for work actually. I went to school for years to be a glorified assistant.” It’s funny. I did. But this job, it felt right, even now. 

“That’s what my son keeps telling me." 

The foods great. I sip at some tea and wait to be called back. Content to use to wifi. After we get back to the hotel, where some of the crew are setting up for the press, and with the help of the first interviewers of the day, I’ll finally have some free time. 

Go walk about the beach. Oriental bay is supposed to be beautiful. And close by. 

Ben texts me and I met up with them at the curb, carrying a large bag of takeout, "It’s good,” I promise. 

“You ate without us,” Miles accuses, all boyish naughtiness, clad in a wife beater and trackies. 

“Down old boy,” Lucy says, slapping his chest. Nick laughs, taking a box eagerly as Ben hails us a cab, of which there are plenty in this part of the city. 

“Do we really have press all day,” Jaime groans. 

“Bet you didn’t think of that when you wanted more people to hear you play,” Ben notes with a mouthful of sandwich. 

Miles shimmies, features twisted in delightful amusement, “fame’s half the reason I joined a band. Who doesn’t want to be a fmaous rockstar. Sex. Drugs, and rock n roll baby.”

“You look more like the fifth Beatle than Mick Jagger,” I note as we pile into a cab. His hair’s certainly Beatlesque. He’s also got the boyish charm down, however rakish. 

“Oi!”

Lucy and Ben shepherd the boys to another interview, with promises of partying and beaches later on our last full day before the concert here. 

I wave them off and head up to our room to change out of slacks. I’d been right, I’d been overdressed. And the heat only made it worse. 

By the time I change into some shorts, I feel to tired to go out and sigh see, figuring tonight I’ll actually go out with the rest of the crew. It’d be more fun that way. Instead of alone. 

Instead I head down to the lobby with a bag and book and head out to wander the area at least. There’s some fast food, the names I know, Mcdonalds and Domino’s, and some obvious tourist traps that I go into. 

My family and roommates will at least want a mug. For the first time, I use my own card to buy some souvenirs, opting for keychains to save space. I wander into some of the regular shops to kill time. 

All the stores nearby have a striking similarity to the ones back home. But the architecture’s all different. 

My phone is soon full of pictures of streets and buildings and me wearing a New Zealand hat, before I give in and get Mcdonalds, heading back to the hotel, ready to curl up in the beautiful lobby with the book I’ve lugged all the way from home. 

The air conditioning is a gift. The couch by the indoor fountain perfect and I try to focus on reading Anna Karenina. It’s been nagging me since uni. But I’ve never managed to get through it. 

So many beautiful quotes out there and I can’t ever finish a book. 

I almost drop my book as Lucy startles me, taking a seat next to me. “Want to grab lunch by the beach? I mean dinner really but either way?”

“And the boys?"She rolls her watery eyes, the color of fog bound sky, "up to change before having margaritas by the pool. I think they’re going out bar hopping again later if you’re up for it.”

I shrug, “let’s see how we feel after wandering about.” It’s a long walk, but how else will we get to see everything. 

Lucy makes me take a pictures of her against various backdrops. “Make sure you get that building!” She poses. “Wait, over here!” She fixes her hair, back and out of her eyes, “Wait! I think I closed my eyes in that one.”

I laugh, willingly taking photo after photo and waiting for her to check them, swiping and zooming in to make sure she likes how it came out. 

“Thank you so much Ellie!”

“It’s really no problem."As we get to the beach we duck into the first place that smells good and has a line. 

"First rule of traveling,” Lucy grins. “Follow your nose.”

It’s not half bad. Fish and chips. The fish claiming to be fresh from the day’s catch. A perfect dinner. 

Lucy tells me about her last job. “A smaller band, mostly big in europe. I think breaking out into the world’s the hardest part. So many bands flounder in the states and unfortunately it’s a huge market setter.”

“Did you always want to do this kind of PR?" 

"No. But who could refuse traveling! Especially compared to a desk job.”

We each pay for our food and head down to the water. The water too inviting to refuse, both of us wading in. 

“It’s warm,” we both squeal, use to the icy waters of England. 

“It’s probably easier to deal with them though.”

Lucy’s eyebrows rise as she snorts, “you’d be surprised at how crazy things in the boardroom can get!”

We go in past our knees. Yelping as the waves splash, breaking against us. “My underwears soaked,” I admit, blushing fiercely. The wet feeling making me want to go running into the water or for a change of clothes. 

“Didn’t you say we were just dipping our feet in?”

We laugh. 

The groupchat goes off and we glance at each other, before heading back out of the water. We read over the texts with the sun setting on the water. “This place is paradise,” I tell her. Its warm and by the beach and so green. 

“Oh and we’ve barely even started. Ben told me you didn’t even have a passport?" 

I blush. "Yes. I’d only ever been up as far as Scotland.” It had been the first and only time I had met my mother’s parents. Her family. And despite how it ended, it was a lovely time in the highlands. 

Lucy laughs, scrolling through the messages. “Ben and the rest are heading out to drink up on Cuba street. ‘cept for Miles and Alex. They want to go catch some film at a quaint little theater.”

“What movie?" 

"The Red Shoes. There’ll be food and drinks there too.” We trudge through the sand and peddles and reach the sidewalk. This time we hail a cab. 

“How’s Cuba street,” I ask. She’s travelled before. Probably been here with a different band. A different crew. Older than me, lines around her eyes. 

“I mean it’s cool,” she offers, “but mostly pubs and-it’s very much Camden town than Shoreditch.”

“A movie sounds nice after all the walking. Maybe along with a nice glass of wine.”

“I’ll tell Miles we’ll be over then,” she says, looking up with a smile. It’s great to have her here, to get along with her so easily. I’d been nervous before, never having made friends easily in school. Just my dorm mates and whoever I ended up sitting near in class. 

“And I’ll tell the cab where to.”

  
Miles and Alex are waiting for us outside when we pull up. Even illuminated by dim streetlights, it’s easy too see how pretty Alex is, his face now sans aviators and with a good night’s sleep. 

Large and expressive caramel eyes, a softness to his sharp jaw, and a well formed mouth. It helped that he was a good mood, joking with Miles.

“-and I said fuck that mate and drained the whole thing. Burned to bloody hell and back though!”

“Just can’t beat an englishman!”

Lucy rolls her eyes, “boys will be boys.”

“Ah my dear sweet Lucy who pelts me with candy as I mouth off! Reminds me of me history teacher,” Miles winks exaggeratedly. “This is me mate Alex ,” he clasps him on the shoulder, pulling him into his embrace, “Alex. This is Lucy and Ellie who I know you already met but.”

“Speaking of which,” I note, aware of the sand still stuck to my legs and the drying hem of my shorts, “you owe me a drink.”

“Oi! What a woman! Hell El, gotta at least wait until we sit down or you might be what we call the local old dog who spends all his days in the back booths of pubs.” His voice is all over the place as he twirls an imaginary mustache and it’s a combination of it all and him being him that has us all laughing at his antics.

We order chips and a bottle of wine, “to keep it classy,” Miles winks, and take our seats in the tiny theater. 

Alex takes the seat between me and Miles, attention dominated by the other man. All the better for me to sneak glances off and it’s stupid but I already feel my heart speed up at the sight of him like I’m a teenager all over again. 

“Any if you seen this movie before,” Lucy asks conversationally.

“ ’ve not but then again i’m not the most cultured,” Miles does a very bad accent as he continues, “je ne sais quoi.”

“The french give us films and Serge Gainsbourg and this is how you pay them back,” Alex teases, smacking Miles lightly in the arm. I chuckle at that, watching Miles go all mock affronted and tease Alex right back. 

“Is it anything like that old fairy tale?” I can vaguely recall something about cursed red shoes, but the twelve dancing princesses was the story I asked for night after night to my mums despair. 

Alex nods, with a delighted smile on his lips, “loosely. It’s great. I think you’ll like a lot.”

The lights dim and the screen flickers on. I sit back and watch, glass of wine in hand feeling like I’m finally living that life that doesn’t really exist, the moments that come straight of of films like this one.

Alex is right. I do like the film.

Its beautiful and I’m not bored at any point. I can here Miles making quite snide comments and am not surprised. 

“It was good,” Lucy remarks after as we head out, “very black swan.”

“Wouldn’t black swan be like this film since it came out before?” I utter. 

“She’s got you there Lucy darling,” Miles snipes. “Who’s up for some drinks! The rest of the boys are still out and about and I’ve got a bloody mary calling my name." 

He glances at Alex for a second before erupting into laughter that has Alex smiling as well. Must be an inside joke of there’s. 

"Are you two coming,” Alex asks, meeting my gaze. 

I shake my head. If I wake up early enough tomorrow I could probably squeeze in a trip to hobbit town and back before I had to run anywhere. 

I tell him as much. “Mums a huge Tolkien nerd, so I kind of have to.”

Alex nods in understanding, “I’ve never cared for Tolkien. ’ve always preferred science fiction. Going way back to good ol Mary.”

It take me a second for it to click. Mary Shelley. As in Frankenstein. “Never read it.”

“You should. It’s a great little book.”

Miles snorts, “just watch the movie with the willy wonka fella!”

Alex rolls his eyes fondly. 

We hail a cab and part ways. 

Lucy boldly proclaiming she intends to get a good nights sleep and still look “banging in my fourties.”

“Ya that old Lucy darling,” Miles snorts, unable to help himself.

“Don'tcha know never to ask a lady her age Kane,” Lucy calls out as the cab pulls away and I’m giggling, carefree. No one here knows me. I feel unabashed, making a scene and taking cabs about town. 

“So that Alex is right fit,” Lucy states with a knowing smile as she plays the spice girls loudly in our room, handing me more wine. I blush and think I must’ve drunk way more than I though I did. He is! And I don’t know what to do with that. 

So I shrug and reply, “I guess,” to her very unconvinced face. With ease, a down another glass of wine, shamelessly crying out spice girls lyrics. 

I might as well be thirteen again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked it  
> please drop a comment and kudos so i know there's a live one out there. . .


	3. Chapter 3

The concert sneaks up on us between press and setting up equipment and running to get coffee and snacks and running around with Ben, directing the venue staff. 

It’s a total shift for me. I’m more used to taking orders than giving them. Uni was basically all orders. Do x y and z if you want to graduate. Do x y and z and you’ll get a nice nine to five bank job and fat salary to live in the city. 

The hectic pace is welcome, has me buzzing with energy as I try to keep on top of everything. 

“It gets easier as the tour progresses,” Ben tells me as we deal with last minute hiccups, “as we all settle into a rhythm." 

I don’t see how as we’ll be in different cities most days, changing whole countries. It’s less exciting than daunting now than it was when I’d agreed.

The boys finish sound check. Matt swearing that "drumming takes a lot out of you! It’s a whole body thing,” as they head backstage to bum around and take full advantage of their tour riders. 

Lucy slaps Miles hand away as he reaches for a cookie, “none for you Kane. Be happy with you’re bezzie mate. Where is he anyways?”

“Taking in the scenery before he comes to watch us play."While they bum around, there’s a flurry of activity outside, inside, around and Ben and I are running to keep up. Making sure everything is where it needs to be, to keep things running smoothly. 

The fans start to trickle in and I can’t help be but excited for the first concert I’ll be backstage for. There’s people trickling in and a few photographers coming in alongside press and people who somehow got on the list. I didn’t even know how to go about doing things like that. 

The boys get ready and change, Lucy running after them, going over last minute details, making sure they didn’t forget the set list or see to any last minute needs as the opening act gets off stage, a small band that’ll come along to australia with us, and then there’s the techies rushing to movie instruments and change devices. 

Miles smokes a last cigarette and Jaime downs a beer. "Fooking hell, that’s quite a crowd,” Jaime mutters, looking out from the side stage. 

“Are you not used to it yet you bloody wanker,” Matt replies, drum sticks in hand, “better than going to uni I bet.”

“Oi,” I utter, watching the techies do their quick work, “uni was great. I only slept two hours a night but-” I trail off, giggling, “okay it wasn’t the best but still it was fun.”

“Keep telling yourself that Ellie,” Jaime laughs. And then they’re on with a capital O. Miles ampted up to eleven as he takes the mic and belts out one of their hit songs. A song even I know. I get goosebumps as I watch from the stage. Tapping my foot to the music. 

“How was hobbit town,” Alex asks, coming up to me, red solo cup full of lager in hand. 

“Cute,” I admit with a smile, trying to act normal and not like my heart was fluttering with possibilities at the proximity between us. “Got my mum a jumper.”

He smiles back at me. 

“There’re really fucking good aren’t they?"Alex nod., 

"Kane’s great. A real born performer and it doesn’t hurt how much he loves music." 

"You helped him write though?”

Alex ducks his head, bashful as he responds, “only in this album. A lot of our jam sessions aren’t very arctic monkeys.” He sips at his drink. 

“Must be a real good friend to drag you all the way out here." 

He rolls his eyes, cheeks pink even in the little light that existed off stage, "or a terrible one to drag me out of my cozy home." 

I laugh and we lapse into silence, watching the band play. 

Matt animated on the drums, backing Miles voice. Nick completely lost on his instrument, eyes only looking up and out in between songs as Kane rambled on and have the people a show. Nick half dying of laughter every other moment, before running along with Kane’s antics and playing it up, his annoyance his laughter, even the shaking of his hips. 

Combined with their catchy tunes, and witty lyrics, it was easy to see why they had gotten so big back home. It was only a matter of time until they were one of those huge groups playing to sold out arenas. 

I manage to stay on my feet for a couple songs before straying backstage looking for a place to sit, to noise deafening. Yet I could see some people talking. I had no clue how. I grab a water bottle, lost among the people. 

There’s no where to sit and armed with the pass around my neck, I wander further out, ready to slump in a corner. All the people looking too cool and unapproachable, backstage just to be seen. Just to prove they could be, cigarette in hand and the brownoser in me screamed about fire violations. It couldn’t be legal. 

I catch the tail end of their set as I walk back at Bens beckoning. "We’ve got a trip to make out to Auckland”, he half has to shout into my ear just for me to hear him. "Make sure you’re packed and ready to go at four.“ 

I nod, "going out again with the boys?”

“Fuck off Ellie,” he yells, “that’s half of my job as tour manager.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Miles finds Alex, throwing an arm around him and giving him shit for missing “the first bit mate! I was bloody good!”

“It’s the arctic monkeys Kane,” Matt scoffs between laughs, immediately going for a cold bottle of beer as he comes of stage after throwing his drumsticks into the crowd, “not the arse hole monkey.”

“Oi you bloody bastard!”

“Anyone got some weed,” Jaime asks. 

Lucy appears by my side as Ben produces a few joints. I have no clue where he’d gotten them from. Where do people even buy weed, it being illegal and all? 

“Ready to hit up a club?”

“I was thinking of getting some sleep before-”

“Sleep on the ride to,” she says with laugh, gladly accepting the joint from Nick, “now let’s go!

"We like into a cab, all squished in, Lucy in my lap, Miles and Alex in from and Ben Nick and Jaime managing where they could. It’s late enough that the clubs are going, and we’re all buzzed from the drinks we’ve had as the boys changed out of their concert clothes. 

Pre gaming kept it from being awkward for me. Alex passes the joint back, smoking out in the open and I thought uni was wild about how careless we all were. Maybe the rules really were different for rock stars. 

"I flew you all the way out here and you were late! Broke me poor little ‘eart!”

“Fuck you Kane,” Alex replies. Jaime hands me the joint and I take a drag, feeling like I’m back in my first year of uni, about to choke on the smoke at my first party. People had laughed and I’d nearly died of embarrassment. 

We waltz in and do shots right away to the sound of Britney Spears. And Lucy and I dance together. Our hands loosely twined together. Drunk me is very much a dancer thank you very much. Miles disappears with a suggestive grin and a leggy brunette. 

“You better be at the hotel at four,” Ben calls out. I almost fall over laughing from the people who turn to look. Us all causing a scene. 

Jaime shaking his hips alongside us, the alcohol loosening him right up. I stumble as we make it out into the curb. My small heels had felt right, transitional at the beginning of the night but drunk and high, I-I laugh as Alex catches me, a big high dopey smile on his lips. 

His hands colds on my skin in the hot winter-summer nights which was just wrong. And we head back, only an hour until we’ve got to go. His hair a mess after all the dancing we’ve done. The city lights much too pretty as they pass by. 

I think about what it might be like to kiss Alex with his pretty face and kind eyes and giggle.


	4. 42 wallaby way sydney

Somehow we make it to Auckland. 

And then it’s a whirlwind of press and concerts and trying to remember to eat and breathe and sleep all the way through Sydney and what do I do with my one day off. 

Sleep.

I sleep like the dead, curtains pulled over the big window until past six and feel very much like a grumpy cat when I wake up. Stomach rumbling. The group chat reveals much of the same. 

Sleeping people and lounging by the pool. The opening bands gone out for sight seeing. 

It’s a fight with myself to even get up and get food, pizza sounding amazing to my still sleepy head. A good cheesy pizza. A cold coke. It all sounded perfect. I order an entire pizza for myself and check on my texts. 

My mum asking how I am. My roommates sending me updates on our plants. I finish a slice and start to feel like an actual human being. I check my email. 

Answer a few things about what to do for the last few free hours I’ll have until I get back home.

A walk around town needs to happen. I couldn’t be all the way here in Audmstralia and take no pictures. I finish the pizza all by myself and resolve to go walk it off. It’ll be nice to have some me time. 

Alex is in the lobby, heading out, looking better in jeans and a white t shirt than some people do in all dressed up to go Out. 

Unbidden, I start to smile. “Heading out too?”

He smiles back at me, waiting for me to catch up to him. “Yeah I wanted to go see the opera house. I’ve never seen it before and who knows when I’ll be back here.” He runs a hand through his soft hair and adds, “I’m a bit of a homebody.”

“I can understand that. Though the main reason I took this job was to avoid that really." 

"Do you want to come with me El?”

“Okay,” I answer, following him into the back of a taxi.

“So why this job then?”

I shrug. “I didn’t want the whole desk job thing. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I mean I love what I learned at uni. Economics is fun for me but I took an internship and thought about how that could be the rest of my life and felt there’d be nothing worse than that. It felt…it felt like a death sentence for me.”

Alex snorts. “I understand that. Though schooling was never my thing. I was good at writing, but a terrible pupil. I love music but am not a gifted pianist, or a gifted guitarist either. I’m all practice and no innate talent." 

"But you’ve done all right musically. I mean you wrote a bunch of stuff with Miles." 

He brightens at the mention of Miles, slumped in his seat, eyes resting on me, "yeah. You just meet some people and-and it’s like they understand you. Like they’re minds are tuned to the same key you’re in.”

“So why aren’t you out there playing with them?” Or just jamming? I think, from the way Miles speaks about him, he could probably have his own band or his own music. 

Alex shrugs, “I’m a bit too shy to get up on stages, but also I write music because I can’t not write. All these tunes and words swirling about me head until I get them out and down on a piece of paper.”

“Bet the validations still nice though,” I smirk. 

“It is.”

The opera house is all lit up, magestic white against the dark background, smell of salt and water thick in the air, sounds of waves breaking. We get another tourist to take a picture of us both, his arm around my waist and a thrill shoots through me. 

The thin fabric of my shirt doing little against the feel of Alex’s cool solid arm against me. He pulls out a cigarette, lighting up as we walk around, aimlessly in the night. 

“Is this your first time out of the country too,” I ask. The sea breeze is cool. The first night I’ve spent here that won’t have me sweating. 

He shakes his head. “No. ’ve been around. Lived in New York for a time. Before the war. Los Angeles. Paris, at the turn of the century. But nothings ever felt as right as London for me.”

“You must have a good memory too remember Paris and New York.” Before the whole mess in Iraq and the protests in London. I have a picture of me at them with my parents, but I don’t remember it clearly, too young. “It must’ve been cool to travel a lot with your parents. Get to live in different places." 

His brow furrows, confusion written on his features. Alex takes his time, taking a long puff of his cigarette before responding, "y-yes. My parents.” He swallows, getting one last look out at the dark ocean before we cross the street, into the heart of the city, shoulders tense.

“I’m sorry,” I quickly add. “You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want.” The thing about meeting new people was never knowing what to say, if it was to much or the wrong thing, tripping up and wincing and wanting the pavement to crack open and swallow me whole. 

“It’s okay El.” He lets the cigarette fall, crushing it with the toe of his boot, “It’s just-they died…they died a long time ago now.”

It’s crushing. I can’t imagine not having my parents around. not having their support. One phone call away whenever I’m feeling down. A bus ride away from curling up in my childhood home.

“Were you scared about all this,” Alex asks, changing the subject, all forgiven, “about your job?”

“Yeah. A lot. I was scared I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. That I’d be lonely in a foreign country. But it’s what I wanted. Sounded a lot better than sitting in a cubical, even if my econ degree seems a bit much now.”

“Loneliness is a state of mind. You can be lonely surrounded by people, by friends.”

“You just described uni for me." 

Alex frowns, looking over at me, studying me carefully. "Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Of course. It’s just making friends was never easy for me and I thought uni would be different but it wasn’t. And I kept telling myself it was fine because I was too busy revising but it wasn’t. I mean I’m fine now but I guess I was just imagining the whole skins experience of partying and friends and drama." 

I let out a breath, glad to have told someone about all that, having hung heavy on my shoulders as I pretended to do fine and be fine because I didn’t want anyone to worry. Not even the few friends I did have. We’d go out and then as soon as it was over I was back to feeling lonely. 

"I don’t know what skins is,” Alex responds slowly, “but if you’re ever feeling lonely I want you to tell me. You don’t deserve to ever feel lonely El." 

I blush, staring down at my shoes as we duck into a second hand shop. "Alex-”

“I mean it,” he says with an blunt honesty that has me wanting to curl up into a ball. “You’re funny and kind and you know what you want and I won’t hold the fact that you haven’t read Frankenstein against you." 

I laugh, letting him lead us to the corner stuffed full of old records. His warm brown eyes look over the records expertly, delicate hands flipping through the stacks and I don’t know enough about music to stay by his side like a puppy for long. 

I wander off. Into the old clothes. Thick coats all wrong for the current weather. A sequined schiaparelli pink dress. Kitten heeled mary janes that are my size which feels very much like they’re meant for me and and more white shirts that make me feel like an extra in Marie Antoinette than I can count. 

I toss on a hat and glasses and try things over my shirt. One good thing about summer weather was avoiding having to shed twenty layers to try something on. 

There’s a velvet bolero jacket, oversized and with beautiful embroidery on the sleeves and I need it. It even has pockets. I purchase the jacket, shoes, and a blouse and try not to think about how I’m going to fit everything into my suitcase. 

Souvenirs taking up more spaces than I’d like to think they would. Maybe I could toss my flip flops?

Alex grins like an absolute loon, cradling a record in his arms, "they’ve got a copy of jazz at massey hall!”

“I’m glad,” I offer, at a loss. “

When we get back to london,” he says very seriously, looking down at me, eyes crinkled in amusement as he smiles, “you’re coming over and giving this a good listen.”

“Must be a pretty good album then?”

“Oh it is,” he grins, excitement leaking into his voice. “I don’t think anyone that night knew how special it was. It was just a great musical performance and only time revealed the momentary alignment of jazz legends.”

I giggle, his excitement contagious as we walk out and I tell him about my purchases. “Marie antoinette was obviously a style icon having invented the whole milk maid aesthetic,” I ramble on as we walk the streets and wander about, going down any interesting alley. 

In those hours, anything that isn’t Alex is blotted out. His smiles and laughter and the way he listens so deeply. It’s more than a swarm of butterflies, it’s a warmth in my chest, as tangible and constant as my heartbeat. 

It’s real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope im not being heavy handed in the foreshadowing but i guess its not blatant either so no one would guess vampire immediately either


	5. jass at chelsea

London is gray and dull after Australia and the festivals we’d been at. And like it’s welcoming us all back, it’s raining. 

Foggy, a complete 180. It doesn’t help that it’s night, and I haven’t seen day since two days ago, having spent another day traveling. Cramped up in my seat, squished between other passengers. 

This time I had slept fine on board, exhausted from touring. We’re all dead on our feet and unlike the last few days, we don’t puke into a cab, we just sort of wave and leave and it’s sad. I think after all we’ve done, all the time spent together, we leave like it’s nothing. I know even I need some alone time. 

But it’s still sad to me. 

The second leg of the tour isn’t for months and I have a week off before having to go into work. A week I spend sleeping and doing laundry and becoming a couch potato. 

Another week of catching up with friends and getting lunch before I have to go back to work. It’s the day before I go back to work that Alex texts me, my heart lurching, an unconscious desire that had sunk into my mind. 

In Australia, it had seemed easy to believe that a man like Alex might like an ordinary girl like me. Perhaps I was selling myself short, but my confidence was a fickle thing that still needed propping up after my acne ridden teenage years. 

More eloquent than in person, his preference for written word is obvious.

_I was hoping we might have a listen to the record I told you about. A drink or two, a small offering in comparison to the pleasure of your company once more, in the city we both inhabit, where everything will seem solid and less ephemeral than abroad. -Alexander_

It was long and flowery for a text and made me dizzy with anticipation, I threw out everything I’d been told to do when a boy texts you and replied instantly, walking home from tescos trying to make food instead of getting takeout for a change, eagerly asking for a time and address. 

It was nice to be able to come home and do nothing. A privilege I couldn’t imagine coming back from while my roommates came home from their jobs dead on their feet. 

Grueling weeks on the road seemed a small price to pay. 

I take the tube over to his, a beautiful georgian house among many in Chelsea, save for some dying plants outside, a clear victim of his recent travels, thick dark curtains obscuring all the windows.The street is littered with nice cars, millionaires the only people who can afford the nice neighborhood. London’s market on the uptick. 

At least I feel at ease in the dying light, the sun spilling in the sky like egg yolk as it sets, turning the clouds blood red, casting long dark shadows. I guess Alex is not a struggling musician, or maybe he’s just from a well off family. 

It’s then I know that I start to feel anxious, no longer buoyed by our shared work, just me and him and would that be enough? It was stupid when I already knew how easy it was to be with him. 

But this felt more concrete then wondering around a foreign city had. The thought of kissing him no longer a far off wish but a possibility so close it had my fingertips tingling. 

Alex opens the door with a boyish smile on his lips, clad in loose blue jeans, frayed at the hem, and a grey t shirt emblazoned with give a damn, hair hopelessly disheveled as if he’d just woken up. “El, love” he says fondly, after a second, “I’m delighted you’re here." 

Waving me inside. I’m expecting the inside to look like a Tatler photo shoot, more burberry than marks and spenser sales rack, with the uninviting feeling carefully decorated homes had. 

Instead, the rugs are rich, intricate designs, the edges frayed with time and use. There’s a thin layer of dust in the paintings hanging on the wall, one signed manet, another of a slender woman with doe like eyes and hair the colour of milk tea, in vivid realism, only the clothes betraying the age, paint cracked with time by the frame. 

Following along, I spy the stacks of books piled high on every table, some new others yellowed with age. 

There’s a silver tray on the coffee table littered with pens and paper and a beautiful piano in the room he leads me too, room lit by stained glass lamps in the shape of flowers, the shades tightly drawn with a beautiful japanese inspired screen for good measure. 

A guitar rests in one settee. It’s closer to an antique shop than any catalogue. "Please,” Alex says, “sit, make yourself comfortable,” as he goes to place the needle on a record, a small library of records covering a bookshelf nearby. 

As an after though he adds, “don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s fine,” I smile, watching him, at ease in his home, wanting to run my fingers through his hair and find out if his hair was as soft as it looked, “it’s kind of the vintage shop of my dreams. I don’t know where to look because everything is catching my eye." 

As I’d hoped, he laughs. "That’s certainly a way of looking at it innit?”

The first notes of the record filling the room. Alex takes a seat next to me on the plush sofa. I kick off my shoes, surprised at how quickly I take a liking to the jazz music, curling up on the couch, dim lighting adding to the cozy atmosphere, before I catch him looking at me with the same fondness from earlier. With an easy smile on his lips.

For a moment, we just gaze at each other with a certain schoolyard shyness that settles when neither of us looks away. 

His expressive eyes on mine. 

A gaze so intense I can’t hold it for long before I have too look away. “It’s funny,” I note, “the music has me picturing the concert clearly. Like I’d been there. Fuck that must have been a night.”

“It was.” Alex nods, his gaze still heavy on me. “They all lived for their music, bodies a vessel for playing the notes swirling around their souls."It was a beautiful thought, and I wasn’t sure how to reply to the sheer earnestness. 

"You said there was wine,” I ask all faux innocence, wanting something to take the edge off. 

Hyper aware of every movement I make. I want to sink back into the ease we’d had in Auckland and not this. The thought of him wanting me as much as I wanted him was driving me crazy. 

“Oh so that’s why you came,” he grins so alight with amusement, eyes twinkling. 

“The musics good too." 

"And the company?"I shrug, teasing, "I’ve had worse.”

“Oi!”

I snort.

He doesn’t move to go for wine. “I’m starting to feel superfluous El,” Alex say in his thick yorkshire accent, a drawl to his words, each one carefully considered as he takes his time to form a reply, uncaring about the time he takes. “It’s not a very nice feeling.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me you need as much ego stroking as Miles?”

“Miles does all the ego stroking for himself.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I laugh, “I think you need a lot of ego to get up on stage every night. I don’t have stage fright but it’s all very weird to have that many people looking up at you.”

He nods in agreement, “it’s a good thing that’s not part of my job. All I wanted to do was ‘ave people listen to my little songs.”

“Well I’d say job well done." 

The album had debuted top of the UK charts. And he’d written the lions share with Miles. Alex ducks his head, red rising to his cheekbones, a stark contrast against his pale skin. 

Even a few weeks down under had done nothing to rid him of the lack of colour that came with living in such a gloomy city. 

"You’ve got the whole country singing along.”

“Well…Miles and the boys do. I just helped Miles a little or well we just jammed together. Can’t help myself around that man…rarely has anyone understood me so well.”

“Have you always written songs?" None of my childhood hobbies had stayed with me, consumed with studying. 

"Can’t help myself,” he admits. “A tune or some words…coming to me mind. There till I write them down.”

“That’s loads more creative than me. I always think it would be fun to draw but I’m imagining some renaissance masterpiece and it always comes out a derpy stick figure or worse. So I just give up and read or go for a walk.” Even in the winter, Greenwich park was beautiful, and bundled up it was bareable. 

“What do you like to read,” Alex asks, tilting his head towards me, curiousity brimming in his soft eyes. The space between us closing in as we lean towards each other, disarmed by our conversation. 

His hand resting on his knee, pulled out on the sofa, making me feel shameless about having my legs pulled up as well. 

“Articles. Very depressing boring world news. Free essays on the paris review. It’s a shame prints dead or else I’d try to justify buying copies. But I think I’d rather have a cuppa tea. With those fruit bits or boba.”

“Is print dead?" 

Alex says it with a layer of incredulity, baffled. 

"Yeah. This thing called the internet came along.”

“Bloody hell,” he jokes, “I’m still waiting for the windows explorer to…do it’s thing.”

“You mean load? Not surprised. The selfies you tried to take in Sydney were awful. Thankfully those people were there to take our picture.”

“Be easy with me El,” Alex laughs, shaking his head at me, eyes crinkling in amusement. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” I tease, leaning against the softness of the sofa, resting my head as I take the sight of him in, warmth spreading in my chest, thrilled to know that I can make him laugh, that he’d meant it when he said he wanted me over. 

It’s a funny little skip of my heart as hope takes root, the idea that he might like me as much as I like him, making me smile, happy for the first time since I got back. Really happy, not just content to be home, to lazy around and get time to myself. 

He pours us both a cuppa wine in ceramic cups, “no wine snobs here,” he grins and the music plays and his knee taps to the beat against my leg. 

Every touch too much and yet not enough, desire welling up in the pit of my stomach. It’s easy to drink, pour another glass out.“

I don’t think anyone has the time or concentration to listen to a fourty minute song anymore,” I note, sipping lazyily at the wine, my palette too unrefined to know if it’s cheap or expensive. 

“It’s a jam session!”

I drink, trying to hide my smile at his expression, affronted on behalf of music everywhere, the seriousness to his mouth, frowning, a directness to his gaze. 

Failing, I giggle, slumping against the sofa, looking up at Alex through my lashes. "I thought it was just a very long song.“

"El.” His voice, that thick accent, his unique drawl, my face burning, as he leans over, empty bottle of wine forgotten on the coffee table. His hand cups my cheek, the tips of his fingers calloused in a delightful way, toes curling on the sofa cushion, thumb running over my bottom lip. 

Heart beat lodged in my throat, I can’t speak, the desire bubbling over, wanting to spill over and kiss him already. Alex pressing lightly over my body, trapping me against the sofa. 

I swallow thickly, my fingers going to neck, threading my hands through his caramel hair, soft and silken, and pull him down to kiss me hard. 

I can feel his satisfied smile against my skin as he kisses me back passionately, without any hesitation, all of his fumbling for words gone. All confidence and want. 

Alex’s other hand going down to my hip, rubbing cicrcles over my cotton shirt. My head spins with want and desire and Alex all tangled together, finally, kissing him eagerly as he shifts, shoving a cushion thoughtlessly off the sofa. I lay down, skin burning hot. Too many layers between us. 

His lips against mine. Tasting of wine and bitter chocolate, a tanginess I can’t get enough of. 

My mouth opening up to his, tongue exploring my mouth, my hands running through his hair. Alex pressed against me as I lay with my back on the couch, solid and too many layers between us. 

He pulls back, pulling up at the hem of my shirt with a naughty schoolboy grin, endearing all the same. 

“I hate winter,” I whisper against his cool skin, colder than the room, barely emanating any heat at all in the frigid english winter, “it makes getting undressed such a pain." 

Alex laughs, pulling his own shirt over his head. "I’ll be sure to make it worth your time.”

“Cocky bastard,” I utter as he hooks his fingers through the loops of my jeans, pulling me closer to him, the feeling of his own cock, already half hard, sends me reeling. 

In leiu of a response, Alex trails kisses down my neck, sucking at the skin, sure to leave marks tomorrow. 

My fingers dig into his hair, breathily moaning his name. Shamelessly, he undoes the button on my jeans. 

It’s never sexy to take off jeans, kicking them off rapidly, as I reach for him, kissing him again fiercely. The feel of his cool skin sending sending shivers down my spine. Lithe but toned. 

Alex cups one of my breasts, nipple hardening through the delicate lace. “Fuck El,” he groans, hips grinding down against mine.I want him. I want him so much, feeling feverish with desire. 

All my thoughts of him. 

Of Alex. 

He slides his jeans off easily enough, cock hard through the fabric of his boxers. I look up at him, as I unclip my bralete, adding it to the pile of things on the coffee table. 

There’s always an initial nervousness, when sleeping with someone new. And yet, I know Alex wouldn’t hurt me. I trust him. 

“El-,”

“Come here,” I reach for him, a whine to my voice, “come here and fuck me Alex.”

He does. 


	6. Chapter 6

Alex drags me to bars where they play niche music and cheap drinks and we dance nights away neither of us good, dancing close together, every brush charged, stumbling to his, his hands already slipping under my clothes. 

We smoke cigarettes for warmth as we wander around parks an hour before they close as the weather lets up. 

The dark doesn’t seem as threatening with him by my side Alex’s rambles only making sense half of the time, but charming nonetheless. 

And we spend countless hours curled up in various rooms of his house, comfortable in the various pillows and sofas, comfortable with each other. 

A bottle of wine. A good record. The other for company. Passing a blunt between us. 

It was a lovely way to spend nights away. After boring days of going over schedules and calling long distance to verify things for my job. Make sure things were in order. 

As far as a desk job goes, it’s much better than the ones your roommates have. Going to his right after work. 

He’d been to your shabby place a couple of times, with barely any character to redeem it. But his was better. No one to intrude on us. 

“We should get brunch this weekend,” I offer, holding his hand firmly in mine as he stumbles around the roller rink, more intent on protecting his beer than not falling. “There’s this new place in shoreditch that’s supposed to be really good.” According to instagram anyway. To tempt him I add, wiggling my brows, “there’s bottomless mimosas." 

He winces in response. Not at all what I had been expecting.”’ve got work all day. You could come over and we could watch something?“

I want to bring up the fact that’ll be Saturday and he works at home on top of that, writing loads of phrases that might grow itto something more. "You are such a homebody,” I tease, “like a little plant, happy to stay in one place!”

“Nothing like a night in.”

“Don’t you mean quiet night in? That’s the saying.”

Alex shakes his head, carefully making his way on skates around the rink, neon lights painting everything in reds and blues as Lizzo plays loudly, lending privacy in a public place. “A night in doesn’t have to be quiet.” All mischief in his smile.

I snort, almost losing my balance and knocking us both down. “You say that but you mean playing the strokes, smoking a blunt and playing guitar!”

“El that is the perfect night in.” Alex raises a brow, daring me to contradict him.

I laugh, “yes but I’m going to make you dance!" 

He was terrible at it, but a few drinks in and he was game. Dancing with Alex was as easy as dancing alone in my room. Both of us a mess. It made me ridiculously happy to dance badly with him, our bodies close together.

"Only for you Ellie.”

“I think I’m going to go get a root beer float,” I tell him, looking over at the bags under his eyes, a strange sight, “want anything?”

“I’m good and I’ll try not to fall,” Alex adds. “No promises though.” He generally only ever picked at food. His kitchen void of anything but beer and wine and weed. Packs of cigarettes scattered throughout. A stale tin of crackers. 

A terrible disappointment when stoned.

“Baby giraffes gotta learn to walk somehow!" 

I order. Vanilla. Watch the crowd. Most of them out age, a couple teens. It’s too late for any kids to be out. 

Making my way back over to him, Alex in tight fitting jean and a leather jacket even with the heat of a packed room and skating, kicking skates off by the jukebox, a modern computer hidden away in the shell of an antique. 

"Done for the night,” I ask him. It’s past one in the morning and if it weren’t for Alex, I’d be sleeping.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I’m shit at this.”

“Your words not mine,” I sip at my sugary sweet float. “Want any?”

“No.” Alex shakes his head, hair falling into his face. It’s almost past his ears now. Soon we’ll be back on the road. I’m looking forward to it, better than a rushed lunch with Lucy as she complains and I try to make her at least laugh about it. 

“ ’m good thanks though. Actually I was thinking of heading home for the night. Got an early morning.” His voice is carefully controlled and I want to pry but I decide to let it go for now. 

We haven’t put a name to what we’re doing and everyone’s entitled to having an off day and not wanting to talk about it. Doing my best to hide any disappointment I reply. “All right then." 

I brush the stray hair out of my face, the sweat from my forehead. Alex hadn’t even broken a sweat. And offer with a sly grin, "how about a dance?" 

"Depends on the song?” But his lips are curled into a grin. Already having given in. 

“A pound." Alex always had change. And I only ever had plastic. "Honestly you’re a lifesaver. Half the time I don’t even have a pound on me outside of my card.”“

You’ve managed this far haven’t you?” Alex smiles, leaning against my back, watching me type into the screen, wondering what I’ll choose. The intimacy of him and me still sending butterflies swirling about my tummy, my heart racing with every breath of his, tickling the back of my neck. 

It reduced me into a giddy school girl. 

“That I have.” I find the song, glad for the limitless internet. “Still never understood why they never blew up.”

“Scott Pilgrim band right?” Alex’s alight with recognition, lips drawn as he listens to the first few notes with all the focus of a michelin critic. 

I slap his arm lightly, “they’re more than that.”

“Very disco,” he laughs, placing a kiss on my cheek before moving away, letting others queue up songs, his hand in mine, cool skin a relief in the stuffy room. His smile deepens into scowl, an Austin Powers grin, “groovy." 

I burst into laughter, "I need to record that and use it as blackmail!”

“That’s assuming I have any shame!” He spins me around lightly, his hand in mine, a lot more steady back in his leather shoes. 

It’s a quick beat that makes me wish I was around for the disco era, uncaring of anyone else and what they might think. Alex leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to my temple as the song comes to an end.

We walk out, and Alex lights up a cigarette, the nights already so much less colder than they had been a month ago. “We have to go out and enjoy the bout of nice sunshine we’ve been having,” I tell him. 

Spring was here and the everything was in bloom, not even the rain could stop that. And in a week we’d be rushing about on tour. 

“I’ll have to see if I can manage it,” Alex replies, taking a drag, but his voice is flat and I know he’s lying. 

“How come you’re always so busy during the day,” I ask carefully, trying to come off cool and uncaring about the response as Alex passes me the cigarette. 

“I try to get all the writing I can during the day. Force myself to at least. Most of it is bloody awful.” He shrugs, because what can you do about work. 

And I doubt I’d have his discipline if I worked from home. “You could just say that instead of lying.” I hail a cab. Ready to go home after all. “It’s not like I’d mind.”

“I’d love nothing more than to spend the day under the sun with you El,” Alex tries, softly, playing with the ring on his finger.

“But?”

He shrugs. It speaks to how much I like him, half in love with him after a few months of knowing him, after a few weeks of kissing him, that I let it go, sighing. “Night then,” ready to step into the cab. 

He smiles thinly, “See you soon El,” before leaning in for a kiss. 

I respond before I’m aware, head tilting to meet his lips. It’s short and sweet. Then I’m pulling away. 

The weeks work hitting me like a ton of bricks. 

His hand on my arm, like a vise, pulls me back towards him, his mouth ghosting over my skin, breath sending shivers down my spine, breath hitching as he places a delicate kiss on my jawline before placing an obscene kiss in the crook of my neck, the points of his teeth pressing harshly down into my skin. 

I yelp. 

And he lets go, pushing me away like I’m the problem, taking a step back. 

“El-,” he says slowly with great hesitation, eyes wide, “I-.” Alex swallows slowly. Jaw clenched as he starts again, the corner of his mouth tilted up even as his eyes remain more serious than I’d ever seen them, “I guess I was getting carried away but there’ll be time for that later.”

Still unsure, I snort, wanting to go back to familiar ground and get my footing, “It’s like you forget I work with rockstars.”

Alex smiles fondly, “and you like me better than the whole lot of them." 

"I do.” Which isn’t a lie at all. 

In the cab, when I run my fingers over the still sensitive spot on my neck Alex had-had sucked on, they come away with the barest hint of blood.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucy’s plate sits abandoned, my soup gone cold as we both click away on our phones, in a rush to get through as many emails as we can and check as much things off our to do lists despite having gotten together for dinner after work. 

In three days we’ll be back on the road for the next year with only days in between legs. And she’s much more interested in hearing about Alex than eating. 

“Don’t stop telling me,” Lucy snipes, eyes trained on the screen, “I can multitask.”

“I’m actually looking forward to being on the road and not have to do prep." 

"Not about that,” she complains, shoving a few leaves of lettuce into her mouth, her blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun, “about Alex." 

"I already told you about that.” About seeing each other, the boundaries still undefined but it was that sweet beginning when you’re too busy fumbling around to care about much else. I was going to his right after dinner. “He’s-we’re good. I like him a lot I mean I’ve been spending lots of nights over at his. Sort of. I usually leave around six to make it to the office. It’s just he’s been weird recently.”

“Oh god,” she sighs, putting her phone down, “tours going to be hell then.”

I roll my eyes, “hardly.”

Lucy waves her hand dismissively, “weird how?”

“I don’t know he’s just been,” I blush thinking about how carefully he had been lately when we kissed, when we, “distant lately no, distant’s not right. Just,” I trail off, not sure where I was going. 

“All musicians are weird babe.” 

“I guess.”

“Don’t think over think things too much,” Lucy advices, “but if you do end up dumping him do so after the tour and tell me everything.”

“Wow. You’re such a great friend.”

She grins, “just managing things from the get go.”

It’s almost ten by the time I knock on Alex’s door. The street familiar now, a welcome sight. 

Alex answers the door clad in black fitted jeans and a loosely buttoned black dress shirt, a smile on his lips as he waves me in. It’s the kind of disarming smile, full of charm, that would have anyone weak at the knees. 

I don’t lose the chance to press a kiss up to his lips, light and quick, before brushing past him. 

At the start, Alex couldn’t keep his hands off of me, and now there’s a hesitance, a deep dark look in his eyes as he pulls back, wanting but never giving in. It’s frustrating and I don’t understand why. 

He follows me inside. 

Wordlessly. 

To one of the rooms, walls covered in books and records and a handheld record player that I’d once seen in an old movie, that had to be cracked to play. There’s a painting of a thin man with a mane of dark hair, his skin moonstone white in the funky style of pre renessaince paintings, the proportions all wrong. 

Alex takes a seat on the floor, picking up his guitar and strumming it gently, a decanter full of whiskey by his side. Completely oblivious to how I’ve been feeling. 

I stand in the doorway, watching the yellowish light give colors to his pale skin, the shadows sharpening his already fine features. Sighing, I take on a seat on the floor in front of him. 

“What’s wrong,” he asks trying to sound mild. 

“I don’t know Alex. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

He raises a brow. 

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, instead just holding his gaze, the soft brown eyes. “You’ve just been weird lately.” And not in the way I’ve gotten used to. “Distant." 

"I’m right here aren’t I,” Alex states patronizingly. 

“Well it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like-like I’m going over to a friends house from college except that neither of us really wants to be here but I do!" 

He casts the guitar aside, gaze intense as he finally really looks at me, lips drawn thin. "You’re imagining things El.”

I scoff, looking at the walls, at the painting of the man with his face lined with wrinkles that only added to the charm. Someone’s cool grandfather from ages ago. “Maybe but that’s how I feel.”

Al looks away, refusing to meet my eyes. 

“Alex,” I whisper, reaching for his hand, twinning my fingers with his. We haven’t even talked about us. Just been too busy being together. I thought-I want this to be more than some haphazard fling. 

My heart already hurts at the thought of losing him. “Just kiss me okay. I just really need you to kiss me right now." 

He obliges, pulling me closer to him, so that I straddle his hips, against the sette. Hard and passionate, all the pent up emotions of the past few weeks. The culmination of being unsatisfied with kisses and knowing that the silence was wrong. 

Alex groans as I pull on his lower lip. His hand cupping my side. My arms wrapping around his neck, welcoming the feel of his own lithe body against mine, solid and smelling of his musky cologne and the cigarettes he smoked. 

I moan into his mouth as his hips thrust up to meet mine and I can feel how much he wants this, already hard, as much as I want him. There’s too many layers between us. 

"Off,” I tell him, a whine to my voice, “take them off,” my fingers starting to unbutton the few that he’d done up. 

Alex chuckles, “anything for you love. You know I’m yours,” shrugging off his shirt before he goes to pull my camisole up, his cool touch leaving my skin burning with need. 

He kisses the edge of my mouth with a gentleness that has me shivering in his arms, before trailing kisses down my neck, sucking at the base of my throat. “Fairs fair El,” he says with a mischievous smile, his fingers including my bra, sliding it off and taking one of my breasts in his mouth, tongue flicking over my hardened nipple as he cups the other. 

I arch into him, pressing down against his hip, against his hard cock straining against his jeans, rolling my hips into his. 

“Love,” Alex moans against my skin. “I need you. I need you right now.”

We scramble to kick off our jeans, tossing them aside with carelessness. I’ve barely finished taking mine off when Alex wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing my shoulder, kissing the crook of my neck. “El what have you done to me woman?”

I laugh breathlessly, “I think I should be the one asking that question.”

“As long as we’re both fooked then,” he utters nipping at the crook of my neck, his hand dipping below my pants, his touch making me even more wet than I already was. 

Letting him tug off the last layer between us. I moan at his touch, letting Alex guide us down, laying on the rug covered floor. Me on my back. 

Him, his weight pressed against me, my arms around his neck, hands in Alex’s hair, pulling him closer, kissing him madly as he enters me with a thrust, my toes curling up as he fucks me. 

Just like I wanted.

Both of us a tangle of moans and limbs. It’s frantic and satisfying and I cry out, burying my face in the crook of his neck as he thrusts a few more times before coming, collapsing on top, our breathing in synch, before rolling to the side. Both of use breathless.

My chest feels tight, a bitterness in my mouth as I look up at the ceiling. Such nice words that didn’t square with his actions. 

Alex cared for me, that much was obvious, but he kept pushing me away and I was sick of it. The ensuing silence feels oppressive. Alex doesn’t say a word, just out of touch. I sigh and desperately hope I’m wrong. That the distance between us these last few weeks mean nothing.

That it’s just a funk and he’ll hold me and tell me I’m silly and call me his girlfriend. That this tour will be something to tell the grandchildren about. But instincts, the feelings in your gut, are rarely wrong. 

“As much as I love home,” I say, trying to fill the silence, “I can’t wait to spend the next year traveling. See the hollywood sign and walk in central park.” I slip my shirt back on, eyes still on Alex, laying on his back looking wistful. 

“My roommate Jazzy wrote out a whole list of places to try in amsterdam and france since she’s been there the most." He still doesn’t respond. "Sadly I’ll probably only see most places from inside cabs going to and from hotels and venues." 

I finished tugging on my jeans, black, passively formal for working in the music industry. "But Lucy was telling me we can get the miles off all the traveling tickets and used them during our vacation time. Not bad.”

“El,” Alex utters, finally getting up, and going for a swing of his whiskey. 

“Yeah?”

He avoids my gaze, “I think you should go.”

“What?”

Alex doesn’t repeat himself, pulling his boxers on and moving to play his guitar. 

I swallow thickly, a horrible heat in my throat. I want to scream, cry. 

Instead, I grab my jacket. “You bloody arsehole,” I spit, and slip out of his house, before any of the tears fall. 

Stupid. It had been stupid of me to fall for Alex headfirst, not stopping for a second to think if maybe he didn’t feel the same. If we’d even been on the same page. 

And now I’d have to see him on tour.

Great. 


	8. Chapter 8

We hit the ground running and there’s no time to be awkward around Alex. Not when I’m always rushing about, trying to confirm and pin down people and rushing into the bus after a show. 

The states are huge. With long distances to cover between shows, the scenery passing us by in the dark. Ben’s knowledge of it all comes in handy, leading us to our if the way places with good food and he keeps the drinks coming. 

I barely get a chance to realize I’m in Canada before we’re getting back on the tour bus and it’s not long before I’m taking a drag from the joints that get liberally passed around out of sheer boredom. 

There’s only so much to do on the road, couped up in a bus with a bunch of techies. Lucy laughs at my sad attempts to play blackjack and I can only laugh along with her. 

It’s a good thing that there’s two tour buses. I don’t think I could stand to be couped up with Alex. If he wanted to avoid me then I’d do him a favor and avoid him as well. My gaze passing over him as all of us sat down late at night as we pulled into New York city, a free day from a concert but a press day all the same. 

Jaime finds out from Lucy that I’m terrible at blackjack and grins as he wins american bills from me, laughing easily, Miles taking the blunt of the attention off of a band that hates all the bells and whistles that come along with being successful. “aren’t you supposed to be good with money,” he jokes as he wins for the fourth time in a row as we wrap up a shoot, the sun having set while we spent the day with the press. 

I was starving. Fruit platters were not enough. I giggle, “that’s not all economics is! and it’s a card game. Not my fault i’m still getting the hang of it.”

“You didn’t play it at uni,” Nick asks with a grin, having successfully extracted a number off the shoots stylist. 

“No. At least I didn’t. I was too busy getting a degree unlike some people I know,” I reply looking at them both meaningfully. We’d settled in with each other easily by now. 

Jamie shrugs shamelessly, “rather be a rockstar than have to go to uni.”

“ ‘fink I would’ve dropped out,” Nick muses. 

“We’ll see who has the last laugh when your on some reality show for washes up rock stars in ten years,” I retort back with a grin. 

“That soon,” Nick snorts. “Give us at least twenty years.”

The famous skyline passes by us as we head out to meet the others and we never steal a glimpse at the statue of liberty before were hauling ass to Detroit and a plethora of other cities never mentioned in movies. 

And if I can sometimes feel Alex’s stare on me, I force myself to ignore it, losing myself in the drinks and Lucy rambling on about one of her many pet peeves. Tonight’s being the fact that men are disgusting and can’t keep anything clean and would it kill them to keep their dirty clothes off the floor, “I swear I can’t even see the tour bus floor anymore!”

“It’ll get better when we do laundry,” I offer before she’s off again. Laundry won’t get done until we leave for the first european leg. There’s no breaks in between. 

Mum complains that I’ll miss my sisters eighteenth birthday but it can’t be helped. Hopefully all the trinkets I’ve been collecting from tour will make up for it once I send the package before it fills up all my suitcase. 

In the blink of an eye, we’re in Salt lake City, having made our way across the country in a way I could’ve only dreamed of and I know I made the right choice when I took the job. 

“Told you you’d fall into it,” Ben utters, wrapping an arm around me with a carefree smile before he’s off giving directions and tell some techie to load up on alcohol because their weird about it in Utah. 

I shake my head. 

“He’s right though isn’t he,” Lucy grins, a joint in hand and Miles beside her, bits of glitter from yesterday’s show still stuck on his skin.The sunset just makes the panorama look even more gorgeous that it is. The mountains in the distance and the intensity of the green surrounding us. 

“Yeah Ellie,” Miles grins, charming as ever, “bet those wankers who took on,” he pretends to straighten up a tie, “very proper jobs are about ready to knell over and die.”

I snort, taking a drag of the joint. Oh what my parents would say if they knew how much weed and alcohol I’d been having lately. I might have not done much in uni but I was more than making up for it now. “

Hey they get bank holidays,” I joke, running a hand through my hair and wondering if this was the kind of panorama all those english romantics had been on about, “meanwhile I have to put up with your ugly mug!”

“Oi,” Miles grins back sharply, “NME called me an indie dreamboat.”

“Lucy must have bribed them.”

Lucy throws her head back, bursting into laughter, “come on I’m starving and Ben said there’s a mexican place with bottomless mimosas today since they don’t sell alcohol on sundays.”

“What the fuck,” Miles shouts, before shaking his head, “this is why no one likes americans.”

  
As promised there are bottomless mimosas which Miles plows his way threw with glee. The techies are already at the venue, having an early start the next day. The grueling schedule means no nice hotels and I miss the meandering pace we had down under. 

Jamie doesn’t let the lack of dance floor stop him roping Lucy along, our group causing a ruckus between the food and drinks and Miles being Miles, clamping Matt on the back as he shares stories that have to be wildly exaggerated. 

There’s just no way he’d had a threesome with Jack and Meg White not matter how loudly he said it was true as Matt kept rolling his eyes. 

I drink and flint in and out of the conversation, the lion share of my work having been finished on the bus. Watching as Matt sneaks off with a pretty girl. 

We were technically supposed to stop any of that monkey business before a concert, but Matt was good about making his way back unlike Miles who’d we’d lost in Montreal, the language barrier not helping. 

It had been Alex who’d found him in the end, playing with some street musicians. 

Alex joins in, playing along with Miles as they both get completely trashed, Miles glomping onto Alex’s side like a damsel in distress while Alex laughs. 

Despite what’s happened between us, I still find myself stealing glances when I can, when the rooms dark and he’s not holed up on the bands bus, waking up late in the day and dominating Miles attention. 

As if he could hear my thoughts, Alex looks over at me catching my gaze, his eyes still holding the same warmth of a hot cuppa in winter. 

I look away, letting Lucy pull me along with her and Jamie who’s gone ruddy red as he dances badly. It’s all the push I need to dance with them. 

Tomorrow I’d have a killer hangover, but tonight Lucy and Jamie were both mouthing along to Poker Face and that was too good not to get caught up in.


	9. Chapter 9

Even Alex looks more hungover than usual as we all pile into the bus after the concert, taking our very late night dinners on the go. We’ve got a extra day but there’s press to do there so we leave around three in the morning, on the road again. 

Ben and I go over some last minute detail, Lucy having passed on food for sleep an hour ago. My eyesight blurs as I try to keep awake for a few more minutes and Ben rubs at his face. “Being thirty five sucks,” he groans, “can’t drink for bloody shite.”

“You could always cut back,” I tell him.

“And look like an old man? I don’t know how much longer I can do this job. It’s great but rough." 

I roll my eyes, going to my bunk and ready for the sweet release of sleep, "get over yourself then. They’re not asking you to party hard with them every night." 

I only wake up because I’m starving. 

Lucy still looks like shit. And so does Ben. But the rest of the techies are already hooked up, watching the telly or some video on their phones. God bless wifi. There’s nothing but desert as far as the eye can tell and I’m struck again by how vast the states are compared to back home. 

"Saved you some brekkie Ellie,” Tom says, passing a bag of Mcdonald’s gone cold. I don’t bother to microwave it. Washing it down with soda and not feeling the least bit guilty about it. I’d had a late night. 

I change into jean shorts in an attempt to feel more like a living breathing person. 

And Lucy shakes her head, face void of any makeup for once, “I’m leaning into feeling like a zombie.”

“Europe’s better,” Ben offers, “travels only a few hours instead of a whole day.”

“I think we’re all just feeling it today,” another techie observes, “but it’ll pass.”

“Burnout,” I utter, knowing it well from uni, “we’re burnt the fuck out.”

“I think this calls for margaritas,” Lucy grins, clearly ascribing to the idea of keeping it going. 

I roll my eyes, propping open my laptop and going over the schedule for the thousandth time. There were always last minute additions. Emails I had to go through for time changes and the list of questions that would be asked. Then I had to go cross reference it with the list the boys had drawn up. 

Someone draws down the shades, making the noon time sun almost bareable as we leave the city behind. Soon we'll be surrounded by nothing but greenery. Like something straight out of a painting; the colors more lush and vivid under the strong sun then in England. 

I scroll through pages of emails. Some are just meaningless platitudes sent by companies, filling time. Others were actual confirmations. I jot down any changes in the calendar, trying to find time to explore Los Angeles. Then it's off to the next country before the festivals kick off.

I didn't even see the statue of liberty. 

"Why are they stopping," Lucy asks outload, already pullin out her phone and calling Ben. It was straight a straight drive down to California. No room for stopping if we wanted to get any rest once we arrived. 

"Dunno," the driver shrugs, flicking the arrow so that we can pull over as well. "Didn't say anything to me." 

Lucy starts on Ben as soon as he picks up. I close my labtop, already factoring in this little stop. It'll put us and hour or two behind schedule depending on why they're stopping. We should still get there by tomorrow morning. And there was a three hour cushion before the first interview. 

The boys would have to head straight there. 

It was up to Miles and Nick, Lucy wanting to help develope each of the member as individual people and not justin have Miles be the face of all. A hard task when only Miles would answer questions half the time. And they were always taking the piss out of interviewers. 

"Somethings wring with the bus," Lucy sighs, "can you call the company?" 

"I really fucking hope it's just a quick fix," I grumble, we were only two hours out of salt lake. Enough to make it suck it we have to turn back to get the bus fixed. 

"We have an extra day," Lucy notes, as she plops down next to me. "And phone interviews can work. Might even get a few words out of Nick."

"I think it'll only make it worse." I find the number and call.

The sun is setting by the time we make it back to Salt Lake City. A whole afternoon wasted. Some cable or sensor had fried on us. 

"I just don't understand," I repeat for the hundredth bloody time, "why you can't just give us another tour bus! It doesn't have to be perfect but we're hours behind schedule." 

The pencil pusher, hair long gone grey at the temples, doesn't even look up before replying, "for insurance purposes only this bus is covered. If you'd like to amend the policy you'll have to fill out form H-17 and attach the previous policy statement." Which sounded a lot like horse shit to get more money out of us. The whole point of insurance was to not worry about things like this.

I roll my eyes, backing off the counter. "Thank you," I smile, feeling my eye twitch. 

"Any luck," Jaime asks, Ben trailing like a dog behind me. 

"None." I run a hand through my hair. The crew, like ants, had finished moving the most vital equipment onto the working bus. Jamie and Nick had run to get everyone food. "I think our best bet is to just let them fix it. They'll have it done my the day after tomorrow and have them met us in LA before we head down to San Diego."

Ben nods. "Fuck it then. We've lost enough time as it is." 

"Who goes and who stays," Lucy says, eyes flickering between all the people assembled. We were hardly a large group. Seventeen in total, including the band. 

"Us , the band, and the stage tech," Ben answers, leaving no room for arguement. "Sound checks going to be a bitch for you," he tells Nick and Jamie. 

"Not if they get to LA early," Jamie retorts. 

Ben and I go back in to sign the paperwork. 

By the time we're done and back out, Miles and Alex have finally deigned to grace us with their presence. Miles in black skinny jeans and an adidas jumper, glitter still clinging to his hair after the last concert. Alex right next to him, cigarette in hand, as he laughs at something Miles just said, in an old strokes shirt and jeans even as the cold of the desert settles in for the night. 

I swallow, my heart lurching at the sight of him. 

There goes any pretense that I might be getting over him. I bite the inside of my cheek, following Ben onto the bus as Lucy tells Miles what's going on. Unlike all of us, Miles and Alex had remained holed up on the broken bus, content to smoke week and sleep until we figured things out. 

Miles had only come out for some fries and more cigarettes. 

Thankfully, I didn't have to move anything. Just have to share a bus with my ex. No biggie. 

Lucy glances at me, eyes wide, while smiling thinly. 

We pile into the bus, waving the rest of the crew goodbye, but happy to not be the ones that had to sit around and wait. 

Taking a seat once more on the couch, I open up my lab-top and start sending emails to try and squeeze in all the interviews in an afternoon instead of over two-ish days. Anything to keep me from having to deal with the Alex situation. Alex who, I couldn't but notice, as I glanced over the rim of my computer, had dark shadows under his eyes despite having slept the majority of the day away. 

Miles, like a shark smelling blood in the water, takes a seat next to me, smiling shamelessly. "Not surprised you couldn't bully them into giving us a new bus Ellie."

I raise a brow, "oh what? Was I supposed to fight the man?"

"Might've done the trick," Miles nods, "but they probably looked at you and decided they could get their way."

"Oh fuck you," I scowl, heart not really in it. Writing professional sounding emails was mind numbing work. "Not like crying would've softened up their cold dead hearts."

Miles smiles bitterly, "very true there."

"So we're not stoping until California," Jamie asks. 

"No my lad," Miles calls back, "you mum'll have to do without the nice mug from Vegas."

"Amateur," Ben shakes his head. 

"Should've just gotten it when we were there," Lucy joins in. 

Nick grins. "Cut him some slack lads," he says as he claps Jamie on the back, "Cookie was too busy downing shots to worry about dear old mummy."

I laugh along with them, allowing myself to forget all the complicated feelings I have at the moment. Miles' easy way of worming his way into things, making people feel included as much as he was able to turn around and sink into his own private circle of him and Alex. It was no wonder Miles had brought Alex along. 

If not for the fact that I'd spent countless nights watching Miles snog one girl only to go home with another, I'd have wondered. Alex, my gaze flickers to his sleepy eyes, most likely form the weed. Alex I wasn't so sure. 

Though I'd spent hours with him, I now felt as though I hadn't known him at all. He'd been so warm and open in the beginning. Though, as I try to recall anything at all about him, I realize anything he'd shared had been surface level. I didn't know anything about his parents, or childhood, or even what his favorite food was. Only that his appetite for music was rivaled by his ability to devour books in a single sitting. That his wardrobe extended into random cupboards. 

His dark romantic eyes catch mine. Catch me staring at him like a pathetic lovestruck girl. 

I lose myself in all the work that has now piled up. 


	10. Chapter 10

We all head straight to the hotel, just in time for the first interviews of the day; throwing Jamie and Miles to the wolves. It’s a nice place, that we won’t enjoy. Having lost a day means that after using the hotel for interviews, we’ll have to run to the venue. Only Lucy and the two band members get off at the hotel. 

The rest of us, unlucky as we are, have to get and attempt a soundcheck down half our crew. It’s hell. 

Made worse at the thought of Alex holed up in the tour bus as we rush around. Unbothered by work as he’s just Miles’ plus one. Having stayed up all night with Miles, playing guitar and making my head want to explode as I’d laid in my bunk, thinking about how deft his hands on the strings were. Working myself up and worst of all– missing him. 

Lucy had been right. I text her as much only to hear a snort above me.   
Unhelpful in everything except gossip. 

By the time Miles and Jamie get back, having been grilled to hell and back, Jamie looking like the worlds most uncomfortable toddler who’s cheeks have been pinch way too many times by strangers, most of the set up has been done. The California sun beating down on us as we enjoy munching on the food set up for us. 

It’s one of those days when I could care less if it’s any good. That fucking hungry. 

Miles keeps glancing down at his phone, a bundle of nervous energy instead of the usual chaotic energy. He reminded me so of the boys in school who would talk back to the teacher and cause riots of laughter among students. He gets up, grabbing another beer and pacing around the room before collapsing into a chair once more. 

It’s making me nervous. 

“You alright Miles,” I venture, when he sits down by me, frowning down at his phone. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” he says dismissively, not bothering to look up from his phone. “Just peachy doll.”

I roll my eyes, but persevere. Part of my job is too make sure the talent’s holding up. And we might not be friends outside of work, but you can’t live on the road for weeks with people and just not care about them. “You’re calling me doll. Now I’m really worried.”

He laughs humorlessly. “It’s all right Ellie. Really.”

“Is it Alex?”

Miles’ eyes pierce my gaze, the goblin child mirth absent in lieu of surprise. “No. No. sort of.” He glances down at the ground, at the carpet the color of cat vomit, whose original color had been lost to time. “He’s just got a bit of a headache. That’s all.”

“Right,” I reply, unconvinced by his slippery gaze and the airy tone. 

“ ’m sorry about whatever happened between you two,” he utters bluntly. “Say the word and I’ll send him away.”

"You don’t really mean that,” I note, fiddling with my thumbs, unable to hold his gaze now as color rises to my cheeks, “or else you’d have offered at the start of the tour. Not two weeks before it ends in south america.”

“Technically,” Miles counters, pointing his finger right at me, “its just a break before the festivals. I can make do with out ‘im." 

"I highly doubt that,” I remark. Everything’s in order in the venue. I’ll give myself this one night to skip the concert. While people watching could be fun, and there was nothing like the energy of a live band filling the venue with hundreds of screaming fans, I was a bit over it tonight. Having spent the majority of yesterday in the same confined area with Alex, and being careful not to make it too obvious I was avoiding him, had drained me. 

I walk out the door and into the warm summer night. It was a nice change from Utah. The city bathed in lights as the sun set. Just like that an entire summer gone by. Tomorrow was a second show. Then Pomona. Then San Diego Soon we’d be in South America and then onto Europe. Miles had been wrong, there was only a week before Europe. 

I let out a breathe as I wish for the first time in my life for a cigarette. All this traveling with a rock band and I’d finally picked up some bad habits. I walk down sunset strip and right into a liquor, wishing I had thought to nick some of the cigarette boxes that filled an entire bowl backstage. Thank god for riders.   
And next year I’d be doing it all over again with another band. The thought filled me with dread. I’d gotten used to Nick and Jamie. To Ben and Miles who often ended up ontop of tables dancing and dunk and pulling Alex up along with him. 

As soon as I take a drag, I can feel the knot inside my chest begin to ease up. More and more neon signs light up. It’s not Vegas, with its kitchy over the top theatrics, but Los Angeles feels like every noir detective movie I’d seen. It’s so much like the grimy and cheesy eighties action movies set in these very streets. If not for the actual stale smell of actual garbage. The cars honking every five seconds.

Streets clogged like heart arteries with cars. 

I slip into the first bar I find that’s playing loud music. The strokes. God, how I used to dance around my room to their music at one in the mornings instead of finishing my assignments. 

“What can I get for you,” the bartender, young, maybe only a year older than me, asks in her vocal fry Californian way. 

“rum and coke,” I reply. 

“I love your accent,” she replies, already pouring out the cheap rum and coke. I set down a ten-er and find a seat in a small alcove, the crushed velvet seat smelling thickly of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. I slump in my seat and watch people come in and out. 

At least I’d seen the TLC Chinese theater on the way in. Even got a picture that wasn’t completely blurry at a red light. Months into the tour and my will to go sight see was dead. My feet would not, refused to even think, of walking another two miles down to the famous street. 

I was almost for sure spending my week off curled up in my bed watching random reality tv shows. 

After my rum and coke I grab a cranberry vodka, feeling like a teenager who’d taken a juice box to school. 

The door opens and a familiar face walks in, already chatting up a girl. It’s Alex, with the sort of charisma that takes weeks of hacking at his reserved nature to get through. The girl, a acid blonde, is eating it up, giggling against his shoulder as they order drinks. 

It’s heartbreak all over again. 

Instead of doing the rational thing, and leaving before I cry in a random bar, I sit there and watch. Watch as he wraps his arm around her, curling his fingers around her waist. She leans into him, laughing loudly like all these Americans do. Stumbling a little as they take a table by the entrance. Alex smiles evenly, even as she wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. 

Shouldn’t he be at the concert with his bezzie mate? 

I swallow back bitterness. It’s been three months. Plenty of time to have gotten over him if I hadn’t been on the road with him for all of that time. That was all. As soon as this tour was over I’d never have to see his face again. 

Even if I wanted to. 

Even if my heart still fluttered when he smiled softly, eyes sparkling with delight as he got absorbed in the conversation. In Miles and even Matt to some extent. He was charming despite his distant nature. The very picture of having your head in the clouds. The dreaminess only made him that much more appealing.   
I down the rest of my drink, feeling my throat burn, before resolving to leave. This was a sign I should go to the Chinese theater. Get a photo of me among the walk of fame. Why torture myself about Alex? 

He’d been an ass. I had to remind myself of that night, of the week leading up to it when he wouldn’t even give me an explanation for why meeting up for breakfast was too much for him. 

When I look up, they’re gone. 

I sigh in relief. 

The night in LA is less black, then a midnight blue. The light pollution illuminating even the grimiest corner. I start to walk in the direction of the crowd. Even at eight, the street was as busy as ever. Like New York, like London, this culture capital never slept. It eased any reservations I had about wondering alone at night in a foreign city. 

I’d just get a taxi back to the venue. 

I’m almost down to the light when two figures catch my attention out of the corner of my eye. Down a badly lit alley. There’s a homeless woman sleeping at the entrance.

I stop and stare. 

Alex’s auburn hair obscuring his features, but I’d know him anywhere. Know the curve of his spine, the way he carried himself, curled in on himself in a way that could only be described as dainty. His lips against the blonde’s neck. It’s salt in the wound that’s been reopened. fuck. I should’ve stayed behind in Utah. 

I’m about to turn tail and run when my eyes focus on the blonde. Her arms held still by Alex’s hands. Back against the wall. It’s a red flag ringing in the back of my mind. The flag that my mothers had impressed into my little prepubescent mind, both of them telling me what to do if I ever felt uncomfortable with a man. Both of them biting their nails with each word.   
  


I stride forward without another thought. Jaw clenching shut. 

It doesn’t take long to reach them. But my shoe makes an awful crunching sound as I step on a discarded crisps bag. 

Alerting Alex. 

Words well up in my mouth. Stop. What the fuck are you doing. Alex.   
But they all die on my lips as Alex looks up, his eyes meeting mine. Instead of the caramel color I’m used to, so bloody fond of…his eyes like a pair of rubies met mine. A look of utter devastation crosses his fine features. “I can explain,” he utters in a rush, lips stained carmine with blood. 

My brain short circuits. Not wanting to make the connection. Not wanting to hear it. I wish I’d stayed. I don’t want to know. I don’t. Fuck. Jesus fucking christ. 

My mouth can’t form words. Can only look from Alex to the hands, still clasped tightly around the blonde. Her smile dazed as she sways, all her weight on him.   
Alex lets her go. 

She sways like the branches of a willow tree in the wind, almost falling over before the jolt of the fall kicks her back into consciousness. Her eyes widen as she looks at both of us for a tense second. Her mouth widens comically into an O before she screams. 

Alex moves, surging forward and pressing his hand to her mouth, silencing her scream before it can make its way out of the alley and into the trafficked street. He gazes deeply into her frightened eyes. “Forget this night. You had a drink with a stranger and then went home. Now go on. Run back home and sleep the night away.” He wipes the last hint of blood from her neck before he lets her go.

Her gaze slacks as he speaks, until the fear retreats. And just like that, like malleable clay, she walks out of the alley, and off into the night.   
I watch her disappear around the corner. Still shocked silent. 

“El,” Alex whispers sadly, much too close for comfort. Having crossed the distance between us while I was distracted. A mistake on my part. A primal terror surging through my mind, telling me to run. To get as far from Alex as possible. “Why’d you have to see?" 

His eyes still unnaturally red.

  
I shake my head slightly. Aware of his hand reaching for my cheek, frozen in the air, as if held back by some invisible force. "No.” I shake my head much more firmly. I don’t. I don’t want to make the connection consciously that the back of my mind already has. That my mind is insisting of as everything off about him falls into place. 

Alex closes his eyes, taking a step back. “I can let you forget this all if that’s what you wish.” When he opens his eyes once more, they’re back to his normal color. It eases a lump in my throat I hadn’t realized had built up. 

This…this Alex I might be able to deal with. So much more familiar. If not for the blood on those lips I had spent so many nights kissing. 

I rup my temples. “No. No. What the actual fuck.”

“El.”

“Stay the bloody hell away from me Alex!”

“El please,” he pleads, arms held up in a calming motion as though I’m freaking out over nothing. Like he’s not a v…no. I refuse to go there despite the evidence. “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”

“I’m not going anywhere alone with you,” I spit, stepping back. Wanting to put more distance between us. Had he done that to me? How would I ever even know?

“Of course not,” Alex replies, voice wavering, choked full of emotion as he continues, “somewhere crowded-," 

"So you can brainwash me!”

Hurt flashes across his eyes, “I would never hurt you,” Alex insists. 

“You already did.” I state. Because it had been three months. And Alex, my first serious adult relationship had just-I was left heartbroken. 

He closes his eyes once more sighing. I could run right now. But something more complex than simple fear roots me to this spot in the alley. Alex rubs the bridge of his nose before trying once more.

“El,” he sighs with centuries of built up melancholia, “please just listen to me and then you can decide whatever you wish. I’ll never bother you again. But El-,” his voice breaks. “El I can’t refuse for this to be my last memory of you.”  
  


My heart flutters, still longing for him even now. Even with the blood drying on his lips. And I can’t help but say, “okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

We sit down at a McDonalds. The Chinese theater visible from the window. 

I can’t help but notice that bags under his eyes are gone as he sits across from me. Cheeks flushed red, for once his skin wasn’t quite so pale.

While the first floor is still moderately trafficked by people, both families and people out for a fun night, the second floor is devoid of anyone other than us. A fact I’m sure Alex was counting on. 

“What the fuck,” I utter, taking a seat across from him. There were no other words, as I tried to wrap my mind around the idea that-that vampires exist and that Alex was apparently one. I fixed my gaze on his bambi eyes, trying to reconcile the imagine imprinted into my mind of crimson irises. 

“El,” Alex tries, clenching his jaw as he rests his palms on the plastic tabletop. 

“No,” I shake my head, not daring to take my eyes of Alex. “Just-just explain this …I don’t know.” There probably wasn’t anything he could say that would rationalize this, that would make me stop freaking out. 

I think of all the time we spent together, in the night, in the dark. 

He reaches a hand out towards me, an openness to his expression, movements slow. His lips cracked open, a tad bit, as if he’s trying to think of the right words to say. 

I flinch. 

Seeing the blood, the girl, all over again. Blood on his mouth, on the lips I had kissed so eagerly once upon a time. 

Alex pulls back, curling in on himself, shoulders hunching over, letting his hair fall into his eyes without reaching to push in back. He frowns, his gaze falling from you to the table. It almost makes me feel bad, but then I remember how we had left things. It takes all the sting out of his expression. 

“Just-just start somewhere,” I ask him. I can’t take this tension anymore.   
Maybe it’ll help. 

Having some context. 

“Alright,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “Alright. Guess I gotta start somewhere.” Alex runs a hand through his hair, before meeting my eyes once more. 

“I-uh…I met Miles ah couple of years ago. He’d just gotten into London. With tha band.” Alex sits up straighter. Swallowing thickly. “I-I dunno. It’s Miles. There was this girl playing a tune. And I was there by me self…I’ve been by me self for a decade by then. Miles just…just uh was suddenly there. It was easy from there.”

“And you told him,” I fill in, unable to keep the hurt out of my voice. I don’t know if I would have handled it any better if he’d told me before. And it wasn’t my secret-I wasn’t entitled to anything. 

But god had I fallen for this man. 

Even now, I keep waiting to hear something that will clean the slate of the last few months.

Maybe if he just wipes it all away…

It’s a nice thought, but it wouldn’t be real. 

“Miles,” Alex pauses, bringing his hand to his chin. “Miles figured it out. A couple of months later. Guess it was pretty suspicious that I never go out in the day.” He laughs humorlessly.

For the first time, you wonder how old he actually is. When was the last time he’d seen the sun rise?

“Well now I feel stupid.”

“No,” Alex cuts in, his hand reaching to grasp mine once more, his touch as electric against my skin as it was the first time, even a brush enough to set me aflame, “no. You weren’t stupid El. I could see…I could see you start to put things together. And-I didn’t want you tah know. I wanted…” His cheeks turn scarlett, as he ducks his head down. 

“I thought we could have more time together El,” he states, looking up through his eyelashes, “Without any complications.”

And wasn’t that the understatement of the year. 

The truth was I had begun to become suspicious, and if we hadn’t, if he hadn’t been an ass, I probably would’ve put things together. I mean if Miles could, then do could I. 

“You still didn’t have to be an ass,” I note, looking at my hand, held in his. 

“I’m sorry,” he utters, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand, “it was stupid but I thought if you hated me, you’d never want to see me again.”

“You underestimated my professionalism,” I retort, smiling sadly. 

“That I did,” Alex nods, the edges of his lips turning up, eyes twinkling in the harsh fluorescent lights. 

“When-you still haven’t explained the whole dracula thing,” I point out, because there was no way my feelings, whatever that mess was right now, was going to distract me from the fact that bloody vampires exist. 

Alex laughs bitterly, lips curving into a sardonic smile. "That’s certainly one way to put it.“

I shrug, pulling away, and crossing my hands against my chest, tasing a brow and stating, "well?”

He nods. “It’s…its ya know…blood and chance encounters.”

I roll my eyes. “How can you be such a good writer and so bad at storytelling.”  
  


“Just give me a moment love,” Alex smiles, the bite softening, “it’s-its just a lifestyle by now. I’ve got to drink a bit of blood every few days. Can’t go out in the sun.” He frowns. “I loved summer days. Loved the warmth of the sun, just made me feel happy ya know. After months of rain.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, trying to imagine never feeling the heat of the sun, waking up and knowing I could finally wear a dress without ten layers. 

“It’s alright,” he states, “I’ve had entire lifetimes to get over it.”

“So you’re really an old man underneath the baby face,” I note, smiling despite the turmoil of emotions, of loss and want and just feeling completely lost as I try to come to terms with this.

He chuckles, “I do still get carded outside of London pretty often.”

“And you’re really?”

“I was born in 1811,” he admits. 

“Wow,” I gasp, eyes widening. That would-he was more than two hundred years old. “How did-how do you even end up a v-vampire?”

Alex shrugs, “I was never trying. Dracula hadn’t even been written yet. It just sort of happened.”

“Alright but how? Wait no go back,” I tell him, “Dracula hadn’t been written! Did people know about vampires like the whole twilight craze?”

“More of a folklore thing. They were still going around about witches…,” he looks up thoughtfully, “guess witches were all the rage back then.”

“So you can brainwash people…what else?”

“ ’s not exactly brainwashing. Just suggestion. I can’t…I cant make people do anything they don’t want to do. And they all like forgetting the nasty bits.”

I frown. “You mean the part where you drink their blood?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, “that part. They just want to have the good time.”  
I purse my lips. Thinking back on all the times we’d spend together. All the nights. 

“I never-I never did it tah you El,” Alex whispers, “I would never…I love you. I know ya probably don’t want to hear it right now, but I do.”

I look away, eyes stinging as they fill with tears. It’s Alex and a month has done nothing to-it’s still too soon and shit. It’s not something I want to deal with when all I can see is Alex’s blood coated lips. “Just tell me more.”

“I can’t do any of that bat shit. Or mist. Complete fookin lies. So is sleeping in a coffin. But-but the mirror thing is true. Rare…now. Silver backed mirrors aren’t too common. The sun will burn me. Bram Stoker made the garlic and crucifix bit up. I have fangs but nothing noticeable.”

I raise a brow, my gaze immediately going to his mouth. 

“I’m careful. Can’t tell unless you’re up close and know what to look for,” he laughs, noticing my stare. “And my eyes turn red when I…uh-feed. As I’m sure you noticed.”

“Alex-,” I start, breaking off as I realize I have no clue what to say. What to do with this information. 

“El,” he says, his gaze steady. “ya don’t have to dea with any of this. Just say the word-”

“I’d rather know.” I think about all the people I’ve ever known. I don’t think I’ve ever met another vampire. Looking back, Alex’s habits stick out, when you know what to look for. Not having any food. 

“El. I do mean it. I love you.”

“Please don’t.”

He sighs, “it was wrong of me to think we could make things work. That we could have something normal when I’ve long left that behind. It was selfish, but I can’t make myself regret it.”

I swallow thickly. “I need time to think.”

“El?”

“Please,” I tell him, “I need time to think. You can’t just-you can’t expect me to know what to say.”

“Alright El,” he smiles softly and it’s like my heart is breaking all over again. His brown eyes, that weren’t actually brown at all. 

I lean in, “can I see?”

Alex’s gaze flickers around the second floor. Still as empty as when we had sat down, the voices of customers downstairs drifting up. Then his gaze meets mine, first the hazelnut colour dusted with flecks of gold, then in a blink, the dark crimson colour, like a vintage garnet, deep and rich and absorbing in all the light. 

My hand reaches to him. Fingertips ghosting the skin of his cheekbones, resting on his temples, seeking him out with a desire that has not abated.   
His eyes flutter shut. 

Unmoving in my touch. 

I must be insane, to have seen him, to have him bare before me and still want him all the same. 

This time, when I lean in, I tilt my head to his, meeting his lips with mine. It’s no, intense nicholas sparks moment of reunion, of the scene before the credits when everything works out, just a quick kiss on his lips. 

The surprise is clear in his features, Alex’s eyes blown wide. 

“We should start over, without world changing secrets.”

He nods, a tiny bob if his head, his lips still touching mine. Neither of us willing to pull away first. “Anything you want El.”

> 


End file.
